


The Road to Hell

by SilenceIsGolden15



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo 2k18 [12]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Coran accidentally fucks up, Fever, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Illnesses, Prompt: Harmful Healing, Seizures, Sick Keith (Voltron), Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 17:44:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16246646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceIsGolden15/pseuds/SilenceIsGolden15
Summary: Is paved with good intentions.





	The Road to Hell

 

“Shiro, I told you, I’m not sick--” Keith’s statement was interrupted by a sneeze, and Shiro crossed his arms and gave him his best Disappointed Dad Look. 

“You were saying?”

Keith sniffled miserably and scowled at the floor to avoid Shiro’s eyes. “It’s not a big deal, just a cold, I’m fine.”

Shiro sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Why Keith always insisted on pretending he wasn’t sick (until he was fifty times worse than if he’d just  _ rested _ ) he would never understand. Well, really, he had no choice. He had to bring out the big guns.

“Keith, I can’t have you running missions if you’re sick. Something could happen.”

Keith’s spine immediately straightened at that, even as a cough racked through him and made his shoulders shake. 

“Wait, hold on a second--”

“But,” said Shiro, holding up a hand to stop Keith’s protests, “If you go see Coran and take whatever medicine he gives you, I’ll still let you come on the next mission. Alright?”

A distinctive pout formed on Keith’s lips, but Shiro held his ground, and eventually he relented and let Shiro drag him to the med bay. 

“Oh, of course,” Coran said cheerfully once Shiro had explained the symptoms and the basics of a human cold, “I have just the thing!”

The Castle, as the paladins had recently discovered, held a lot more clutter than they’d first thought. The med bay looked bare, but really there were shelves upon shelves of supplies hidden behind the panels in the walls. One slid back at Coran’s touch, and he selected a blue box from the middle shelf, shaking a single yellow pill into his gloved hand.

“Here you are, Number Four!” Keith took the pill and raised an eyebrow at it, shooting Shiro a look. Shiro didn’t blame him-- the color was rather unfortunate-- but he raised his eyebrows pointedly until Keith gave in and swallowed it down. Dry, which Shiro would have to speak to him about later, but at least he took it.

“That should fix you up in a jiffy,” Coran was saying, “No more than a day. You will feel a bit drowsy for the next few vargas, however.”

“Thanks Coran,” said Shiro with as much sincerity as he could before turning to Keith. “Why don’t you go lie down for a bit, ok? I’ll call you when it’s time for training.”

He didn’t look pleased at being ordered to bed, but with Shiro’s threat of being taken off missions still hanging over his head, he went with minimal complaints. Shiro thanked Coran one more time, then went to the lounge to join the rest of the team where they normally loitered when they had nothing else to do. 

And for once, he had little to worry about. Sure the war and the Galra were always an anxiety hovering in the back of his mind, but that was easy to deal with, and for the next few hours he could just relax with the others, content that Keith was actually taking care of himself for once. 

He went to the lounge with a certain lightness in his step. 

* * *

Keith, as frustrated as he was and as much as he hated being still, went to his bunk like Shiro had told him to. True to Coran’s word he was beginning to feel a little sleepy from the pill, and he figured since Shiro sent him to his room it must be alright to take a little nap. Just a short one.

Still in his jacket and boots, he stretched out on his mattress, lying neatly on his side and facing the wall. He let his eyes drift closed. 

He was just about asleep when his stomach began to ache. With only a small grimace he curled his knees inward, hoping it would pass. It didn’t. In fact, over the next minute it only got worse, until Keith was curled into a ball with his arms wrapped around his middle, cringing at the sharp pain. 

_ Side effects,  _ he told himself,  _ just side effects. You’re fine.  _

Then the nausea joined the party, and he clenched his teeth tightly and swallowed, trying to keep it down. He couldn’t throw up, if Shiro found out he’d think he was getting worse and he wouldn’t let him go on the mission. And he couldn’t have that-- he couldn’t be stuck in the Castle while everyone else did their jobs. He couldn’t be useless.

Suddenly he was hot, very very hot holy hell when did the Castle get decent heating? He sat up in a rush and tore his jacket off, followed by his gloves, and for one blissful moment it worked and the cool air caressed his heated skin. But now he was upright and his stomach lurched, and he barely made it into the bathroom in time to vomit.

The bile burned when it came up, and the retching hurt with the cramps that were still twisting his insides into knots. When it was over he sat there on the floor, coated in sweat and now he was shivering for some reason, and he couldn’t catch his breath. His throat was closing up, he could feel the air struggling through like he was breathing through a straw when he inhaled. 

Something was wrong. This wasn’t just a cold, or a flu, and he wasn’t stupid enough to hide it from Shiro, no matter how badly he wanted to be useful. So he forced himself to get up and stumble to his feet.

The room spun. Keith grabbed hold of the sink to keep from falling and had to take a minute to swallow back more bile. He didn’t have time to throw up again. Something was incredibly wrong with him at the moment and he had to find Shiro. 

So, keeping himself pressed close to the wall for support, he made his way out of his room and into the hallway. 

* * *

“Are we flying in training today, Shiro?”

“Probably not,” Shiro answered, not looking up from his tablet. He didn’t need to look up to know Lance would be pouting-- he could hear it in his voice when he responded. 

“Why not? Blue is getting restless.”

“You mean  _ you’re  _ getting restless. Besides, the Lions will get plenty of flying on the mission tomorrow.”

“But that’s battle flying, Shiro, it’s not the same.”

Shiro was saved from answering when the door to the lounge swished open. He finally pried his attention from the report he was reading only to be shocked when he saw Keith standing in the doorway. A reprimand grew on his tongue, Keith was supposed to be resting, only to die there when he took in Keith’s appearance. 

He wasn’t standing in the doorway so much as bracing himself there, both hands grasping the doorframe. He wasn’t wearing his jacket or his gloves, allowing Shiro to see the cold sweat that was soaking him from head to toe. His face was pale and blotched with red, and his breath came in fast gasps that had his chest heaving. 

“Keith?” Shiro set his tablet to the side and stood. “What’s wrong?”

The other paladins had frozen, eyes focused on the two of them as Shiro approached Keith with hands outstretched.

“Shiro,” said Keith, voice thin and reedy, “I don’t feel so good.”

Then his eyelids fluttered and his knees crumbled, and Shiro barely got there in time to catch him before he hit the floor. The other paladins let out shouts and cries and rushed to surround them while Shiro’s heart stopped beating in sudden panic.

“Keith? Keith!”

Keith didn’t respond, didn’t even stir, and Shiro laid him gently out on the floor and felt for a pulse. He found one, which was a relief, but it was weak and far too fast, and his breath was stuttery and difficult.

Pidge reached to feel his pulse for herself, then cast quick, darting, analytical eyes over him. After a moment they widened behind her glasses.

“Shiro, I think it’s anaphylaxis, anaphylactic shock, we’ve gotta get him to the med bay,  _ now-- _ ”

Shiro didn’t hesitate. He immediately hauled Keith up in his arms and got back to his feet with a grunt. His heart was racing a million miles per hour and his stomach had found a new home in his feet, but by some miracle his voice was steady when he spoke.

“Hunk, get my tablet and ping Coran, tell him to meet us there.”

Hunk obeyed immediately, and the whole group hastened downstairs in tense, anxiety-ridden silence.

When they got there Coran had beaten them and was already pulling out supplies-- Hunk must’ve told him about Pidge’s diagnosis, because he tapped a button on the wall to roll out a cot and began to prep a needle. Shiro laid Keith out on the cot and held Keith’s arm out for Coran’s shot without being asked. That’s how he felt his muscles tense, and knew a half second before the seizure started.

“Hold him down!” 

Instantly the paladins dog piled themselves onto him, doing their best to keep Keith’s jerking limbs steady long enough for Coran to get the needle in. It took several long, terrifying seconds, and Shiro would never forget the cold fear that filled him when he looked down to see Keith’s eyes rolling back into his head. But Coran managed to do it, and the second the medication was injected the tremors began to slow.

Shiro let out a heavy breath, but Coran wasn’t done yet. From his coat pocket he produced another needle, this one longer, and scurried around the bed to put inject it into Keith’s other arm. From his position Shiro could feel when Keith’s breath eased in response to the shot.

“Is he gonna be ok?” Asked Hunk tearfully from the end of the bed. He was still gripping Keith’s shins like his life depended on it. 

“In a few days, yes,” Coran said, already across the room again getting an IV prepared. “This was a very violent reaction, it’ll take some time to heal.”

Pidge straightened up from where she’d thrown her entire body over Keith’s torso, adjusting her glasses as she went. 

“What the heck was he reacting to?”

Shiro moved away, only half listening as he located a spare chair. His hands shook. The whole process, from Keith staggering into the lounge to now, had barely taken five minutes but it felt like he was still stuck in the whirlwind. The image of Keith braced in the doorway was seared into his brain, looking at him with those wide, scared eyes before he fell. 

“I gave him some medication this morning for a minor illness. Possibly one of the ingredients in it could have caused this reaction. Frankly, with how many foreign substances you’ve been exposed to I’m surprised one of your frail human bodies hadn’t done this sooner.”

The paladins scattered as Coran moved forward to hook up the IV, and Shiro hovered anxiously behind him with his chair, which he promptly dropped the moment he saw Keith’s eyes open. 

“Wh’ts happenin’?” He mumbled, batting Corans hands away from him. Shiro put a hand on the Altean’s shoulder, pushing him subtly to the side, and Coran went without a fight. 

“Keith, hey.”

His eyes flicked up to Shiro’s face, and although they were still a bit cloudy and confused, they sharpened a bit when he recognized him. 

“Shiro?” His words weren’t quite right-- like his tongue was too big and clumsy for his mouth-- but he was awake and speaking and that was good enough for Shiro.

“Yeah. Listen, Coran is going to put an IV in your arm, ok? You’re really sick, you need to let him, ok?”

Keith nodded blearily, conceding, but his fingers scrabbled over the cot until Shiro took his hand and squeezed. 

“It’s alright. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Comforted by Shiro’s presence, Keith tilted his head back against the pillows and let his eyes fall closed again. Coran returned to his task, and the other paladins watched in cautious silence. 

* * *

Four hours later the med bay was dark and nearly empty. The other paladins had reluctantly gone to bed at Shiro’s insistence, leaving him to watch over Keith as Coran scrolled through records on the far side of the room. 

Keith was asleep-- properly asleep, not just unconscious. The moment Coran was done treating him he’d bundled himself up in about four blankets (being mindful of the IV line), tugged wordlessly on Shiro’s arm until he’d toed off his boots and clambered onto the cot beside him, then shoved himself against Shiro’s side and went to sleep. 

Shiro rested his metal hand in Keith’s hair, the other mechanically scrolling through the reports on his tablet without his eyes taking in any of the information. He’d known many an adrenaline crash in his life; from flying hoverbikes to taking off in a spaceship to gladiator fights to Voltron, but this one was probably the worst ever. He’d been trying to help Keith, trying to protect him for once instead of the other way around, and he’d almost killed him instead.

He was going to have nightmares about this for weeks.

“Shiro?” He lifted his head at Coran’s voice. The Altean had apparently finished whatever he was doing, and had crossed the room to stand near the cot. His expression was heavy and solemn. 

“Yes, Coran?”

“I ran all the ingredients in that pill I gave to Keith through our databases.” He paused and swallowed, a strange shine coming to his eyes. “And I fear I may have been the cause of Keith’s illness.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed. “Why do you say that?”

Coran sighed, his shoulders drooping a bit from his ever-upright posture. “One of the main ingredients in that medication is toxic to Galra. I should have remembered. I’m very sorry.”

“It’s alright, Coran,” said Shiro with a deep almost-sigh. “We all make mistakes. Don’t forget you’re also the one who saved him.”

His mustache twitched. “I suppose so. You should get some sleep, I’ll be back in a few hours to check on Number Four’s condition.” 

“Sure. Thanks, Coran.” 

“Sleep well, Number Two.”


End file.
